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He glanced at the new security system. Zain had gone overboard, though Foster had to admit, he hadn’t expected any less. And something he should have allowed his buddy to do the moment they’d moved in. But he’d hoped Raven’s Cliff would be different. More like his rose-colored memories of his parents never locking their doors. The Andy Griffith vibe it gave off.
He’d gotten lucky. And after having to watch Mac battle to get Chase free — knowing there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to help — he knew his mind wouldn’t quiet until he was convinced they were safe.
He didn’t need to stay alert for hours. Just one or two — until he was sure the bastard with the night vision goggles wasn’t going to make a surprise visit. Then, he could put his faith in Zain’s tech and get some sleep.
Foster stripped down to his boxers and tee, kicked off his boots and padded over to a winged-back chair, sinking into the comfortable cushion. His shoulder ached from the cold and the strain, every screw feeling as if it was trying to burst free. He scrubbed his hand down his face as he hit Keaton’s number, waiting for his cousin to appear on the small screen.
The video winked into view, Keaton’s sleep-weary face appearing amidst the darkness. “Foster? Jesus what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Trapped? Need bail money?”
“If I was hurt, I’d be calling emergency services, and if I was trapped, I’d have my team on the line. As for bail money…” Foster chuckled. “Do you even have any?”
Keaton blinked then carded his fingers through his hair. “Well, something’s wrong because it’s five o’clock here, which means it’s two freaking a.m. there. Wait, you’re not drunk dialing me, are you?”
“Do I look or sound drunk?”
“Honestly, you’re one of those guys who you just can’t tell.”
“I’m not drunk. And before you ask, I’m not high, either. But I need your help, and it couldn’t wait. There’s been an incident. A few actually, but tonight’s…”
He swallowed, Sean’s ghost mocking him from across the room. Just like he’d done throughout the entire rescue. Always hanging over his shoulder like a beacon of all Foster had to lose. Everything he’d already lost. And now that the adrenaline was starting to wane, it seemed all too real.
“Foster? Cuz, you’d better start talking because the color just drained from your face, and you look like crap. Is everyone okay?”
“They will be. Zain and Chase had their trucks go off the road. Actually, Chase was driving one of the deputy’s — Greer Hudson’s — Bronco. She took the brunt of it. She’s stable but in the ICU. The guys are spending the night under observation, but they’re mostly just pissed.”
“Damn. What the hell happened?”
Foster used the hem of his shirt as he reached into his pocket and removed the device before holding it up for Keaton. “This.”
Keaton squinted then inhaled. “Is that part of a bomb?”
“I think so. I’ve got a connection here who I’ll have take a look at it in the morning to confirm, but…”
“So, someone put a bomb on Zain’s truck?”
“It was Greer’s Bronco, actually. Though, I didn’t look at Zain’s Chevy. It was already towed. I’ll scour it tomorrow.”
Keaton frowned, turning his head to talk to someone on his right. Trinity, Foster supposed. Keaton’s girlfriend and the woman Foster knew Keaton was going to spend the rest of his life with. “Maybe it’s because we had a late night, and the wine’s still kicking my ass. Or maybe it’s because it’s five a.m., and my brain’s not fully functioning, yet, but why would someone put a bomb on a deputy’s SUV? And what has this got to do with you and your team?”
Foster sighed, giving Keaton a quick rundown of what had happened. How Foster was pretty sure this revolved around whatever intel Greer had been planning on sharing. And while it had seemed like a stretch when they’d been sitting in the café, the whole Carrington connection appeared much more viable now.
Keaton scratched the back of his head. “I gotta give you credit. You and your team don’t do anything half-assed. So, I’m guessing you’re hoping Dawson can unearth whatever Greer had uncovered regarding this Carrington guy and GeneTide — if there’s any remote connection to Raven’s Cliff and your manor house, specifically.”
“In a nutshell, yeah. I don’t know how long Greer will be sidelined, and the last thing she needs is me hounding her for information. Possibly putting her life at risk again. And before you hyperventilate, we’ve got a fellow soldier guarding her until we can move her here, but I need to keep this from getting back to anyone else in her office. Hell, in town.”
Foster arched a brow as he leaned back. “You think Dawson will play along? Maybe call in a few chits if needed?”
Keaton coughed. “Are you kidding? He lives for this spy stuff. And we actually have an in with a fed down here. If she’s in town, she might be willing to help too.”
Foster nodded, turning when the stairs creaked. Nearly falling off the chair when Mackenzie rounded the bottom of the staircase dressed in one of his massive tees with a pair of wool socks. She glided over the old wood floors, the hem of his shirt swaying seductively across her thighs. She stopped beside him and tossed him a shirt and his pajama pants. He smiled, wondering if he’d ever seen her look sexier than she was right then, when she glanced at the screen then back to him, arching her brow.
Keaton cleared his throat, gaining Foster’s attention. “What was that?”
Foster frowned. “What was what?”
“The look on your face. You’re obviously not alone and whoever just walked in…” Keaton whistled. “What’s her name, cuz?”
“Bugger off.”